CheeriO
by Qustom
Summary: Rachel. Puck. A Cheerios uniform. PWP


_Established relationship, no real plot. Written for a prompt from the Glee Kink Meme on LJ. The prompt was: _

_**Puck/Cheerleader!Rachel (either as costume, fantasy/dream or real)  
Because Puck likes to eat Cheerios for breakfast. **_

_Come on, who could resist that?_

* * *

Puck stares down at Rachel's beaming face, his fist frozen in the air in front of him. He had only just raised his hand to knock when the door had been thrown open. "Good morning, Noah!" she greets from the doorway, still smiling that mega-watt smile.

Puck slowly lowers his fist and his stare dissolves into an uncertain squint. He looks her up and down slowly and Rachel's grin seems to widen under his scrutiny. "What the fuck are you wearing, Berry?" he finally asks.

The grin dies on her face a little, before she takes a confident step forward and brings the pom-poms up in front of her. She shakes them a little and Puck watches them distractedly. "It's a Cheerios uniform," Rachel informs in her best '_isn't this obvious?_' voice.

"Yes, I can see that. It's very... cheerful," Puck agrees slowly, dragging his eyes away from the dancing pom-poms and back to Rachel's face. The smile is back on her lips. "Are you going to let me in, or are we going to put on a show for your neighbors, again?"

Rachel colors and steps aside quickly. She shuts the door behind him when he brushes past her and turns in an overly ballet-like twirl that looks nothing like the the hip-jutting struts Puck has seen most girls wearing that uniform use. He doesn't quite hide his smile. "So, are you defecting or something?" he asks her blithely.

Rachel looks scandalized. "I would never leave Glee, Noah! Actually, my current ensemble only reinforces my deep commitment to New Directions," she says primly before raising the pom poms again. "I had a moment of inspiration yesterday in practice while I was watching Santana—"

"Glaring at—" Puck interrupts.

"—perform. While her attempt at a solo was, _disappointingly_, too sharp to be of any use whatsoever to our group, I did notice that the uniform that she seems obsessively compelled to wear every day—regardless of the eight inches of snow outside and the appalling lack of functional central heating in the music room—does engender a certain amount of school pride and also projects an image of youth and energy."

"Yeah, I'm sure you were completely broken up that Santana's voice was sharp," Puck says drolly. "Did you lose sleep over it, Berry?"

Rachel continues as if she had not heard him. "And I had an epiphany! McKinley High School is—as much as it pains me to admit it—currently only known for its highly-ranked cheerleading squad. While New Directions will surely bring McKinley a new and _infinitely_ more distinguished reputation for excellence once we have achieved our many inevitable successes, for now the school really has nothing else going for it. Our sports teams are dismal—"

Puck looks affronted. "Dismal? I knocked _four_ guys unconscious in _one_ game last week."

"—our academic records are an embarrassment to public education, and our arts programs are, quite frankly, sub-standard. Outside of Glee, of course, which is clearly on the rise. So why not celebrate the one thing at which our school exceeds?" she asks brightly.

"You want to celebrate _cheerleading_?" Noah asks slowly, as if he's not quite sure what he heard. He slides his palm against her neck and frowns suspiciously. "Did you stay up all night watching _Funny Girl_ again? You know what that does to you..."

Rachel turns her face to press a quick kiss into his palm before jumping back and holding out her arms, showing off her uniform again. "So, I was thinking that we should perfom a rendition of '_Hey Mickey, You're so Fine_' by the charming Toni Basil while wearing cheer uniforms! We can have Brittany or Quinn help us perfect the necessary choreography, but you and I can work out the basics today. What do you think?"

Puck smirks suggestively and closes the distance between them in one long stride. He takes her hips in his hands and pulls her roughly against his front. She sucks in a quick breath, her eyes wide. "Sure, you and I can work out some _choreography_, Berry. Are your dads home?"

"N-no."

Puck promptly begins leading her backwards with his hips through the Berrys' expansive foyer and into their kitchen. When her back bumps against the kitchen island, she sucks in another breath and looks up at him with those huge eyes of hers. He leans down to kiss her roughly, nearly bending her backwards over the counter, before sliding his hands down to the backs of her thighs and hoisting her up. He sets her on the smooth granite surface and she shivers a little at the cool feeling on her legs where the short, red skirt doesn't cover. Puck slides his palms onto the insides of her knees and stares down at her as he slowly—_slowly_—opens her legs.

"So," he says casually, enjoying the way Rachel's breathing becomes erratic and broken as her knees are pushed open. "You want to sing a _Toni Basil_ song, Berry?"

"Y-yes..."

Puck exerts a little more force for the last few inches, opening her legs as far as they will go before the outside of her knees bump against the countertop. He steps between them and looms over her. "Try again."

Rachel's head falls back, exposing her neck. Puck leans over and breathes on her pulse, but doesn't touch. She shifts, trying to encourage him. "I—_what_?" she mumbles, uncertain.

Puck lets the tip of his nose brush beneath her ear and blows another cool breath down the side of her neck. Her hips nearly come off the countertop. "I don't think you want to sing that. You fucking hate Toni Basil."

"I do not," she says, but it comes out breathily. She fights to keep her eyes from fluttering closed while lifting her hands—suddenly pom-pom free—to wrap around his shoulders, holding him in place. "She is a very talented—"

"You're so full of shit," Puck laughs, grabbing hold of her wrists and stepping out from between her legs. "You'd rather drink cyanide than sing that song. So I have to wonder what's the real reason for this getup?"

Rachel tries to pull from his grip for a moment with no success. She huffs and glares up at him, but says nothing.

Puck smirks and brings her wrists together, changing his grip so he has them both in one of his hands. She watches, biting her lip, and he presses a kiss to the soft underside of one. "Yeah, I think I've got this pretty figured out, baby," he continues, leaning forward again. "Sex thing, right?"

Rachel looks like she wants to break into a _monumental_ pout. She stares at him in annoyance for a moment before sighing. "Actually, I wanted to pleasure you orally while wearing this outfit. But now you've ruined it."

Puck looks shocked at her honesty before smoothing his features and leaning her back by his grip on her wrists. He places his free hand on the counter beside her, sliding his thumb over the hem of her skirt. "I guess I should make it up to you, then?"

Rachel tries not to smile. "You really should."

Puck leans her back even further until she's lying flat against the granite. He presses her wrists against the counter above her head. "Stay," he breathes before letting her go. Rachel lets out a ragged breath and nods, tilting her head so she can watch him as he smoothes his hands down her sides before stopping at the waist of her skirt. He allows his fingertips to slide beneath the fabric, touching the soft skin above her panties. She makes a small noise in her throat and tries to lift her hips from the counter. He moves one of his hands to lay flat low on her stomach, pressing her back down.

Puck takes a step back and leans over her so his chin is nearly touching her navel. He presses a kiss there before looking up at her face. Her eyes are as wide as saucers and her teeth are crushing her bottom lip as she watches him. He loves her like this.

"Yeah, I'll make it up to you, baby," he says quietly before he hooks his fingers into the waist of her skirt. Achingly slowly, he begins to drag the skirt down her legs, stopping every once in a while to slide his tongue against the inside of her knees, her calves. She's trembling hard.

Finally, he drags them past her feet and tosses them behind him. He looks down at her hungrily. "I fucking love your legs," he murmurs before sliding one of his hands all the way up from her ankle to her hip. There's no teasing, no waiting, as he grabs her panties and drags them down her legs, stuffing them into the pocket of his jeans. He pauses to adjust himself before forcing her legs wide again. He places one hand against the edge of the counter inside of her thigh and the other he presses hard against her sex. She arches clear off the counter.

"God, you're wet," Puck breathes in wonder. He slides his palm down so his fingertips brush against her clit and she's _thrashing_. He curls his fingers and catches her clit between his knuckles to twist gently and she makes a choked noise that becomes a high sound he's pretty sure only dogs could hear.

Puck slides his other hand up her shaking thigh and uses his thumbs to part her lips, leaning down to breath against her. Her legs clamp around his shoulders, her heels scrabbling against his back and he smirks into her wetness. He gives a long, slow lick and Rachel stuffs one of her fists against her mouth. Puck feels the nails of her other hand scrape against the prickly stubble on the side of his scalp before sliding into his short mohawk. She's saying something but he's too busy concentrating to pay attention. Her thighs are shaking even more violently by this point and he knows she won't be able to help herself from locking them around his head in a moment. He shifts so his forearms force them apart again. With deliberate slowness, he slides one of his fingers inside her. He looks up at her, but he can't see her face because of the way her back is arched. The sounds she is making are driving him crazy.

A second finger joins the first and he takes another slow lick. He mutters something about how good she tastes before moving up to suck her clit into his mouth. Immediately, she nearly buckles in half and he's kind of shocked to discover she coming. Her legs nearly wrench him to the floor as she somehow manages to contort her upper body so she's lying on her side, nearly curled into a ball while her legs are still on either side of him. It doesn't look comfortable so he straightens and steps back, letting her thighs close again. Puck wipes his chin against the back of his forearm and stares down at her in surprise. He takes hold of one of her ankles and rubs his thumb against it in small circles, waiting for her to come back to herself. "That was fast," he says neutrally after she gets her breathing under control.

Rachel manages to go even redder than she was already and a pink flush appears on her neck and disappears under the large, block-lettered 'WMHS' of her cheerleading sweater. She takes another deep breath and starts to sit up. Puck drops her ankle and slides his hand behind her neck, into her hair.

"I was... before you got here..." Rachel stutters to explain.

Puck grins lasciviously. "Yeah? Must have been pretty close, then."

He leans over to kiss her roughly, more turned on than he wants to admit. She responds enthusiastically, as she always does. After a few minutes, he steps away again and helps her down off the counter. She immediately seeks out her skirt and tugs it back on on, looking a little embarrassed.

Puck watches her for a second before wrapping his arms around her in a hug. He knows she tends to get a little self-conscious after he goes down on her and he's learned it works out better for him later if he does this. She stands on her toes so her arms can wrap around his neck and he can tell she's smiling again.

"So, the whole cheerleading thing," he says after they break apart. "Seriously, what brought this on, Berry?"

She tilts her chin up imperiously. "You were staring at Santana yesterday."

Puck nearly laughs, but he knows that she won't so much as kiss him for three days if he does that. He stifles the urge but can't help the smile. "I was not."

"Yes, you were, Noah. You were staring at her while she was singing."

"I wasn't staring at her, Berry. I was _watching_ her, just like everyone else was doing. She was singing a solo."

"I would hardly call her unfortunate attempt _singing_," Rachel huffed. "And you were staring. But from now on, when you see her ridiculous little cheerleader outfit that she apparently _never washes_, I want you to be thinking about _me_."

"Yeah? Well, I think I might need a few more mental images to be sure, Berry," he says before grabbing her hand and pulling her behind him while stalklng up the stairs to her room. "For _inspiration_."

Rachel grins as she scrambles to keep up. "Rah rah rah..."


End file.
